


Six Christmases

by cecilysmith



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Bucky's not the Winter Soldier, M/M, but steve is still cap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilysmith/pseuds/cecilysmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky meets a lost man in the street midnight Christmas eve, someone just as messed up as he is.</p><p>Turns out, the man with the straw blond hair and blue eyes that seem so bright and so empty at the same time will play a much larger part in his life than Bucky could ever imagine.</p><p>Follow them over six years, six Christmases celebrated together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Christmases

**Author's Note:**

> For my secret santa on Tumblr, [captain-croptop](natromanoff.cf). I'm a little late, but this thing goes on until New Years!
> 
> (also, not edited at all. Please point out any major mistakes.)

It was the twenty fourth of December, eleven fifty p.m. James Buchanan Barnes is a giant fucking mess and has nowhere better to be than sitting in an alleyway and pretending that Christmas isn't messing his brain up.

Two tours in Iraq. Well, one and a half, then half a year of imprisonment, torture, and experimentation. 

And now he was back and there were lights everywhere and the last thing he wanted to hear right now was merry Christmas. 

Bucky wondered that maybe if he'd returned to his family, he could be gone to sleep with a full stomach and happy dreams, but no, happy dreams were impossible for him. People in his building had complained about his screaming, and half of Bucky wanted to shout at them that it _wasn't his fault_! but the rest of him wanted to curl up in a ball and just give up, just die and get it over with, he'd survived too much to want to go on.

The night air swirled around him, piercing his flesh but not affecting his goddamn metal arm. He wanted the arm gone. Yeah, that's what he wanted for Christmas: get rid of his metal arm. Soon, his shoulder began to ache as it often did. Bucky barely noticed. He didn't have a jacket on, _ha_ , his ma would be so angry. He pushed his hair back, tugging at it, as if that would stop it from blowing in the wind. 

His ma would want him to cut his hair. Becca would love his hair, and insist on braiding it. His other little sisters, Beth and Evie  and Grace, they'd laugh and smile, they'd love it because they loved their big brother, and Bucky's vision blurred for a moment with emotion. He loved his sisters, fuckin' hated himself for leaving them and their mother all alone. He wondered if they were gathered by the hearth, staying up as late as they could, just as the Barneses did every Christmas, he wondeed if they were thinking of him. Probably detested him for not saying a word to them after all of the press conferences and ceremonies were done with.

Bucky didn't want to think about his family, not tonight, because he remembered that just four years ago, before Iraq, he'd eat a hearty meal with his ma and his baby sisters, and they'd laugh at stories of the past and smile at the future, and they were a family and there was _love_. Bucky couldn't believe he'd ever get something that normal again. He choked down a sob in that empty, shitty alleyway and stood up, not able to stay there for one more excruciating second.

The street was completely empty. The wind whipped and whistled around him, snowflakes flurrying around. It suddenly hit Bucky how cold it was, but still he refused to go inside. He didn't deserve to have a nice night tonight, especially not on Christmas. His hair flew in his face and he wanted to scream, he just wanted to scream until his throat gave out, until he coughed up blood, that's just how _great_ Bucky felt on the Christmas of two thousand and eleven.

Suddenly, there was movement. Not the snow, not something fluttering in the wind, but a person. He looked around and spotted a hunched figure, barely visible in the shadows. Bucky wasn't expecting this. He felt oddly drawn to the silhouette in the storm, even though interaction was seriously the last thing Bucky needed now. Or maybe, Bucky needed to talk to him because what kid of isolated, lost soul would be out alone on Christmas eve other than one not dissimilar to himself?

He didn't conciously make the decision to approach the figure, but soon, Bucky found himself nearing him, and to his surprise, the person wasn't avoiding him. 

The man even sat beside him when Bucky's legs decided they were too cold to keep walking and collapse beneath him. 

How long had he been out here?

The man said simply, "Are you okay?" He clearly knew the answer.

Bucky said, "I'm just fine."

The man said, "I'm just fine, too."

Bucky managed to laugh hoarsely. "What brings you here?"

The man laughed in returned, hollow and sad. "It's Christmas and my friends and family are all dead. You?"

Bucky grimaced. "I... let's just say, I can't face 'em."

And the man knew exactly what Bucky meant.

They lapsed into silence. By now, twelve a.m. of Christmas had passed and Bucky's heart ached with too many emotions and none at all.

Bucky began to fall asleep, or maybe it was the cold numbing him. It was when his head fell on the stranger's shoulder that the man said, "I don't think you're okay."

Bucky didn't move. "Yeah, punk. I don't think you are, either."

"You're gonna get sick, you jerk. You got a place to stay?"

And Bucky knew this well, this behaviour. Take care of everyone before yourself, because they're worth so much more than you are, but also because your fucking hero complex, that's why you joined the army, isn't it? Great fuckin' places that got you.

"Yeah. It's kinda far, though." Bucky grunted, eyelids heavy.

"That's fine, jerk. I only just met ya, can't have you dyin' on me." Bucky couldn't see the man speaking, but the fake smile was big enough to hear.

"You don't gotta pretend here. No one's gonna fuckin' tell you to stay positive, or whatever else your shrink says." Bucky snorted bitterly.

The man huffed out a curt laugh. "I got more than shrinks analyzing me." Bucky didn't pry, because he didn't want to know and the man didn't want to tell. There was a pause. The man asked again, "You have a place to sleep?" When Bucky nodded, the man helped him up. They hobbled back to Bucky's shitty apartment, where Bucky made taste bud destroying coffee for the both of them and said, "I'm Bucky."

The man gulped the scalding coffee and replied, "Steve."

There was silence, until Steve said, "Soon, hours, maybe."

"What?"

"They'll find me. They'll bring me back, and I'll be trapped again."

Bucky didn't ask.

He did say, "Sounds fucked up, Steve."

Steve stared into his now nearly empty coffee mug. "What happened to you?"

"I was trapped. While ago. Not like you." Bucky said, knowing the man wouldn't ask any more, knowing Steve would soon notice his metal arm and the quickly try to hide his look of horror.

No such thing happened.

They lapsed into silence again.

"Bucky, they've got me and I don't, I don't know what to _do_ with myself."

Bucky nodded. He knew exactly where Steve was coming from. "You keep going."

And out of that shitty Christmas eve where too many emotions were brought to the surface, blossomed a friendship.

* * *

It was ten fifty three on December twenty fourth, two thousand and twelve when Bucky's door creaked open, but now he wasn't about to take one of the knives out of his nightstand, becuase he knew who it was: Steve. A few months ago, Bucky had given him the key to his apartment because he was over here as much as possible, anyway. Bucky could honestly say Steve was his best friend.

"Bucky?" Steve whispered, even though what slim chance was there that Bucky was asleep at this time, especially on CHristmas eve?

Bucky stood up and greeted Steve in his kitchen/living room. Steve grinned with relief, tears threatening to spill over his drooping eyelids.

"What's wrong?" Bucky asked, not knowing what Steve was going to say but knowing that it would be the farthest thing from tolerable.

"I, I..." there was a pause. "Remember last year? When we met, and you and I were messed up, more than now?" Bucky nodded, so Steve continued. "I said, all my friends and family are dead."

Steve did say that last Christmas. Bucky always wondered about it, but never pried, because anything uttered on Christmas eve in the middle of the street, drunk on sadness, shouldn't be repeated.

"I've got you know." Steve went on. "I have... a few, a couple friends. And here I am, still feeling like shit."

Bucky said, "You can't escape the shitstorm."

Steve smiled sadly. "Doesn't help much, jerk."

"That's life, punk."

They both laughed quietly. 

Silence blanketed the room. Bucky thought back over the year, but as of now the only thing important coming to mind was Steve. Something had happened to Steve this year, and Bucky was certain it was connected to the alien invasion. He didn't confronted Steve about it, though.

Steve had confessed to him that he worked for some top-secret intelligence agency. His job was extremely dangerous and left next to no room for friends outside of work. Steve made time for Bucky anyway, though Bucky couldn't fathom why.

"My friends, my friends at work, I mean, they had a Christmas party." Steve said suddenly. He looked like he was more in his head than standing beside Bucky. Before Steve could go on, Bucky said softly, "Let's go sit down, yeah?" Steve nodded. They sat on Bucky's bed. "So, Christmas party at work?"

Steve nodded again. "It was fun. It really was. I just... I thought I was fine, or better, but then it just hit me hard again and I just..."

Bucky nodded. He didn't respond to that, but he put his arm around Steve's shoulders comfortingly, and Steve leaned into the touch. Steve was huge, 6'2 and two hundred forty pounds, but in that moment, he seemed very, very small.

Suddenly, Steve's phone went off. He took it out of his pocket, sighing. Bucky glanced at the display then looked away guiltily, but not before seeing that the next was from a Natasha. Steve deliberated for a moment, then turned his phone off, not responding to the message.

"At the party, there was, there was booze and expensive food and decoratiosn everywhere, but when I was a kid..." he faltered, staring at the ground. "When I was a kid, we didn't have none of that."

And coming from another person, one might say, 'But that's not all bad,' but now it was from Steve, Steve the cryptic man with a shitton of PTSD and Steve the man who slept four hours a night on a good day. So while Bucky knew next to nothing about Steve's job or past, he understood.

Bucky looked up to see Steve snapped out of his despondent reverie. "Hey, Buck, you gonna visit your family?" He asked curiously.

Bucky froze. His family was a touchy subject, and he'd usually freak out if someone brought them up, but this was _Steve_ , so it was okay. "I don't think so, Stevie." He cracked a grin. "I got everyone I need right here."

Steve frowned, to Bucky's surprise. "Bucky. I can't be, I'm not-"

Bucky cut Steve off. "No, Stevie, you're fine, you're a great friend, my best friend. Don't put yourself down, okay?"

Steve nodded into the crook of Bucky's neck. "Sorry." He muttered.

"Don't be sorry, you-"

"Not that." Steve said, sitting up to face Bucky. "You're being so nice, Bucky. You act like you gotta be strong for me all the time. You don't. We're best friends, right?"

Bucky laughed wetly. "Great Christmas we're having."

Steve smiled genuinely. "Here, with you, that's about as normal as I can go. So, yeah. Great." And Steve, for once, wasn't being sarcastic.

And Bucky was happy that Steve was happy. That was really all he wanted at that moment, for Steve to be happy, he wanted to see Steve's smile-

Oh.

Well.

This might prove to be a problem.

It seemed obvious now. How had he failed to notice before? How had he missed something as huge as the fact that he was in love with his best friend?

"Bucky?" Steve asked, nudging him. "Buck, you okay?"

Bucky's eyes widened. "What? Oh, I'm fine, just lost in my thoughts." He yawned.

"Tired?" Steve asked. 

Bucky nodded. Wow, before, he'd have thought he wouldn't sleep a wink, but now he was ready to go to bed.

Steve glanced around sheepishly. "I didn't..."

It took Bucky a moment, but he realized, "Oh! Just go get some sweatpants or something out of the closet." When Steve got up, Bucky realized something. "Wait! Wait, I'll get it." 

In the closet, Bucky had stuffed the present he got for Steve. It was a simple sketchbook. Steve had never explicitly said that he liked to draw, but sometimes he'd talk Bucky's ears off about art, or would get distracted doodling on napkins and things. He hoped Steve would like it.

Bucky fetched the pants and turned around while Steve changed. He found himself tempted to turn around and watch, then he scolded himself because Steve was his _best friend_.

When Bucky climbed into bed, he expected Steve to go to the couch. He always inststed on sleeping there whenever he visited Bucky's apartment, out of politeness. Today, Steve lingered. Not that Bucky was complaining, of course.

"Can... can I stay?" He asked gingerly.

Bucky nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly. He shifted over so Steve could climb into the bed with him. It was a little cramped, but Steve had no problem with it, pressing right up against Bucky. Bucky rolled over so he was facing him. He pressed his face into Steve's collarbone, and if Steve brought it up the next day, then Bucky had just done it out of tiredness.

Bucky was only moments away from sleep when he felt Steve's arm around him. Against his better judgement, he stayed awake a little longer to bask in it.

When he finally fell asleep, it was the best sleep he'd had in _ages_.

 

Bucky awoke with his face pressed up against someone's neck and a warm arm around him. It then came back to him that this was Steve, and then it also came back to him that he was _in love with Steve_ , and in the back of his mind he wondered if maybe he should be panicking, but he was too tired ad comfy to be worried right now.

Steve began to rustle and make weird noises. Steve was definitely still asleep, but from his vantage point on Steve's chest, he could feel the other man's pulse, and it was quickening. He murmured, "Steve?" When Steve didn't wake, he said it louder. "Steve?"

Steve froze. "Wha'?" He mumbled.

"I think you were having a nightmare." Bucky explained.

"Yeah. It was a nightmare." Steve said, detaching himself from Bucky. "You know, I got something for you."

"Got something for you too, punk." Bucky retorted, shivering from the loss of Steve's warmth. "Don't wanna get up yet, though."

"C'mon, Buck." Steve whined, grinning. He was digging through his clothes on the ground clearly sifting through for Bucky's gift. 

"Make me." Bucky grunted, rubbing his eyes.

Steve actually giggled. "So that's how you wanna play it, jerk."

"Steeeeeeeve." He groaned, waving his arms listlessly. 

"I'll let it go if you get up." Steve laughed. Bucky stared at Steve's ass while Steve looked through his stuff, yet another reason not to move.

"Make. Me." Bucky repeated.

Steve narrowed his eyes. "Well," he said with resignation, "you asked for it." Steve then proceeded to jump on top of Bucky and tickle him mercilessly. Bucky curled up and tried to burrow under the blankets, away from Steve's attack, but STeve would not let up. Bucky's greatest, most guarded secret was that he was ticklish. (Well, befor this, before _Steve_ , he had no one to hide it from, but. Still.)

Withtin seconds, Bucky was shrieking with something like laughter. Finally, he groaned, "Fine! I'll get up!" But Steve did not relent, then at some point or other Steve got tired out and collapsed on top of Bucky, and Steve didn't even know what his closeness was _doing_ to Bucky.

"Aren't you gonna get me to get up?" Steve whispered, raising his eyebrows.

Bucky kept his composure and replied, "Nah. You're pretty warm, punk. Plus, I can't get up now."

Steve made a noncommittal noise. "Buckyyyyyyy."

"Steeeeeve."

"Come _on_ Bucky I really want you to see what I got you Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky." Steve hissed in Bucky's ear then rolled off him, grinning.

"Since you asked..." Bucky finally agreed, kicking the blankets off. "One sec, I should go get what I got-"

Steve cut him off. "No, look at mine first." Steve handed him a simple envelope, not even sealed properly. Bucky gingerly looked inside and found two plane tickets.

Bucky blinked, tears gathering in his eyes. "Steve, I- you-"

Steve cut him off. "They're for... for when I get back."

The teaes didn't stop. "Wh... what?" Steve couldn't leave. Bucky had only known Steve for a year, and now life without him was unfathomable. Steve helped him get better, helped him... with everything. "Why? How long?"

"It's work." Steve answered morosely. "It's... it'ls a big job. I might not be back for weeks, months. I'm sorry, Buck." He frowned. "There's something else, though. In the envelope."

Bucky looked in and saw a simple sheet of paper with an address scrawled on it. He knew that it wouldn't be where Steve lived, that was probably classified, but he sensed it was important.

Then, Steve's phone went off. Off and off and off, a million texts a minute. A call. Angry voices on the other end, Steve refusing to apologize.

"I have to go." Steve whispered, though there was no one there to hear.

"I know." Bucky replied. He hugged Steve, wondering when he would see him again. Then, suddenly, he rushed to his closet, grabbing the sketchbook and thrusting it into Steve's hands. "Bring it, maybe."

Steve was silent for a whole minute, and it took Bucky a bit to realize that his best friend was _crying_.

"Bye, Bucky. I'll be back."

And Steve was gone. He left his clothes there, left everything except his own t-shirt and Bucky's pants. And the sketchbook, of course.

* * *

December twenty fourth, two thousand and thirteen. Three hundred and sixty four days and counting since Bucky had last seen Steve.

He knew Steve would be back. He'd not just leave Bucky like that. Something was just stopping him.

Bucky's mental health was deteriorating. He definitely wasn't as bad as he was that Christmas eve on the day he met Steve, but he was getting there.

It was twelve noon and he was considering drinking until he couldn't see straight. Steve had been gone for a year (no, just three hundred sixty four days. Only three hundred sixty four days.) and Bucky was still thinking about him constantly.

He'd once visited the address Steve gave him. It was a tiny tattoo parlour. Bucky had once mentioned that he really wanted a tattoo, but never really got around to getting one.

For the year (three hundred sixty four days!), he'd ignored it. He threw away the paper (no he didn't, it was sititng in a ball behind the trash bin) and purposely not thought about it. 

He wanted to be angry at Steve for leaving him, but he just couldn't be. It wasn't Steve's fault that he couldn't come back. 

Before Bucky knew what he was doing, he was in his car and driving to the tattoo parlour. He emerged from it with Steve's name on his wrist, something he'd no doubt regret later, something he already regretted, but at the same time he loved it.

When he got home, before he could go inside and find the whiskey, Bucky noticed a package sitting in front of his door. He picked it up gingerly. It could be from anyone. It could be Steve. After all, Steve was the only one who'd send this, right? It said 'Buck' on the front in Steve's wobbly, boxy handwriting.

Bucky's phone rang.

He answered it, not checking the number. 

"Bucky?" A female voice asked, somehwat nervously.

"Mom?" Bucky whispered, because he wasn't expecting this. "Mom? Is... is it you?"

There was a clicking sound, then more noise, like she was putting it on speakerphone. There were several voices now, all quiet and far away. "Winnie, is it him?" "Mom, did he answer?"

"Hi, Bucky." Someone Bucky immediately recognized as Becca said.

"Hey, Becca." Bucky rasped. "I'm sorry."

"Don't do that." Someone else said, someone who was clearly is youngest sister, Grace. "You needed time."

"We understand." One of his other sisters. Beth, chimed in.

"We miss you, though." Evie added, and Bucky could hear the sadness in her voice.

His family was silent for a moment before his father asked hesitantly, "Bucky, do you want to come over for dinner?" He paused, then quickly added, "You don't have to, we just..."Bucky's father trailed off, not knowing what to say.

Bucky planned on saying no. He couldn't face his family. He just couldn't. But what came out was, "Yeah. Yeah, sure. I... I miss you."

There was a collective sigh f relief. "So, you can come now, if you want." Becca began speaking rapidly. "You don't have to. Most of us still live in the place in Brooklyn. I moved out, Beth's moving soon, though. Nevermind, I'll tell you about that later. But can you come over here? Do you need someone to pick you up? Do you..." She faltered, abruptly running out of questions.

"Could you come pick me up?" He asked. "Now's fine." He gave her his address and hung up. He didn't want to drive. He would probably get distracted and crash the car, or some overdramatic shit like that. Bucky was too emotional to be rational then. As he waited, all his fear and anxiety about meeting his family came back once again. No matter what they said, they probably hated him for leaving. Grace had last seen Bucky at the stupid ceremonies, before that, she was ten years old. He'd missed Beth, Becca, and Evie's graduations. He wasn't there when Grace began high school, wasn't there for Beth and Grace's first boyfriend, Evie's first girlfriend, in her case, he'd missed everything.

Another problem was his father. Bucky's father had never been quite accepting about the fact that Bucky was gay. Would his father have changed? Did his father act the same way around Evie after she came out? It had been so long...

Suddenly, his phone went off, tearing him from his train off thought.

 **Unknown Number:** _I'm waiting outside in a black car -Becca_

Bucky took a deep breath and set outside, not knowing what to expect.

It was only when he closed the car door he realized that in one arm he was still clutching Steve's package.

In his fuss about his family, he'd very nearly forgotten about Steve. The bandage was still on from his tattoo.

"What's that?" Becca asked conversationally, glancing at the package.

"It's a gift... from my friend." He answered hesitantly. At his sister's curious look, he added, "I'll tell you more when we get..."

"Home?" She supplied.

"Home." He agreed halfheartedly.

The rest of the ride was silent. Bucky played with the paper of the package, trying to swallow back his anxiety. He was okay, he was totally okay. He wasn't going to cry.

Except, he totally was going to cry.

He and Becca burst into the house and everyone attacked him, embraced him at the same time. Usually, he was touch averse to people (except Steve of course) but then he just missed his family so _much_.

"Bucky, how are you?" Winnifred asked, biting her bottom lip.

He smiled weakly. "I'm okay, ma."

"I know you're not." His ma said sympathetically. She hugged him again. "I love you so much, Bucky. So, so much."

"I love you too, ma."

Suddenly, she gasped. "Why is there a bandage on your arm, Bucky?"

Bucky genuinely laughed. "Don't worry so much, ma. I'm not hurt. It's a tattoo. Still got a few hours before I can take the bandage off, though." He didn't particularly want to take it off, didn't want to see the tattoo.

"Oh!" Beth suddenly said. "Becca and Evie want to invite some people over but they don't want to make you feel uncomfortable so they don't even want to ask you."

Becca snorted. "Beth." She elbowed her little sister.

Bucky thought for a moment. "Who are they?"

"Evie's girlfriend and-" Becca was cut off.

"And Becca's fiancée." Evie finished.

"Invite them." Bucky consented. "I gotta see if they're worthy of my baby sisters."

"You got anyone special, Bucky?" Beth asked.

Bucky held the package tighter. "Um. It's- kinda complicated?"

Grace grinned. "Spill."

And even though it had been six years since he'd really spoken to his family, it was still as easy as ever. He found himself wanting to tell them about Steve, so he did. He began with the sad Christmas of two thousand eleven, then two thousand twelve.

"...and then like halfway through the night it hit me." Bucky explained. His family was crowded around him, listening intently. "I realized I was in love with him. And then... he up and left. I mean, I can't say much because I don't know much, but he works for the government and he told me he had this thing and he didn't know how long it would take but I haven't seen him since last year. And, and I was doing so well with him there, and he was my best friend, and I just miss him more than anything in the world."

His father frowned. "Bucky, what if-"

"He's coming back." Bucky cut his father off. "He said we would. He's coming back." He said determinedly.

His family stared at him with something like pity.

Suddenly, Grace got up. Everyone watched her go. She returned with a tiny slip of paper. "Does this printing look familiar, Bucky?" She asked. The paper had his phone number and the words _call Bucky_ in wobbly boxy handwriting. He put it beside his name on the package, and it was identical.

"That's him." Bucky confirmed, whispering.

"He cares about you a lot." Evie observed.

"I know." Bucky replied, staring into space. Steve couldn't come home, but even then, he was trying to help Steve. Bucky wanted to cry, then he realized he already was.

The door bell rang and Bucky quickly wiped his eyes dry. "That'll be Kyna." Evie said. "Either her or Jason."

"Kyna?" Bucky asked.

"It's an Irish name, I think."

Steve had once metioned offhandedly that he was Irish, but Steve wasn't important right now.

Evie went to welcome the guest, and apparently, it was both of them. Becca went and embraced her fiancée, Jason Evie welcomed Kyna with a kiss.

"Hi, everyone!" Exclaimed Kyna in a thick Irish accent.

"Oh, this is Bucky." Evie explained.

"Hi, Bucky." She said, not missing a beat. "I'm Kyna. I've heard a lot about you. All of it good, don't worry!"

Kyna was obviously a talkative, cheerful person. Bucky liked her already. She was perfect for Evie.

Jason introduced himself as well, and the day went by very quickly. Before dinner, Bucky went into the bathroom and took the bandage off his tattoo. Luckily, no one noticed, and if they did, they didn't say anything, something Bucky was thankful.

The family talked through even and into night. Bucky was enjoying himself immensely, The package from Steve was left in the living room, not forgotten but put off for another time.

The clock struck eleven, and Bucky froze.

It was almost December the twenty-fifth.

He had one hour until it was a year since Steve left.

He had no idea why it was making him so worked up. It was only a day's difference, and hour's, now, but Bucky was panicking.

"Are you alright?" Grace asked suddenly. The whole table went silent. Bucky shook his head mutely. He stood up and ambled to the living room, where the manila package waited for him, daring him to open it. His family followed quietly. Bucky carefully tore open the paper, trying not to damage whatever was inside with his metal arm.

When he saw what it was, Bucky choked out a silent sob.

It was the black sketchbook he'd given Steve one year, no, three hundred sixty four days ago. He opened to the first page and it was a drawing of Bucky, asleep. Everything was drawn in great detail, even his scars.

The next one was a landscape, and after that, more and more of Bucky, occasionally interrupted with pictures of Bucky's apartment or sketches of where Bucky guessed Steve was when he drew it.

In the back cover, there was a letter. It was messy, there were a lot of things crossed out, but it was a letter all the same.

 _~~Dear Bucky~~ _ ~~~~_Buck,_

_I miss ~~~~you ~~so so much~~ more than you or I could ever imagine. I don't know when you'll get this. I wrote it in September. I used up every page in this book, as you've probably seen. Most of it was pictures of you. Most of em probably suck, Buck, because I didn't have you there to model, but my memory has preserved each and every detail of you pretty well. I still remember how your eyes crinkle when you smile and how everyone thinks they're blue but they're really gray. I still remember your hair. I bet you haven't even cut it, or if you have, it's still not short enough. I bet you still put it up in a bun when you don't feel like brushing it. _

_I hope ~~you're okay~~ taking care of yourself. I hope you haven't gotten worse while I've been gone._

_Alright, I can't put this off any longer, Buck: I'm sorry. I said I wouldn't be gone this long. I'll come back for you, though, even if death's at my door, even if I can't walk, I'll come back. I said I'd come back, and I will. I hate myself for leaving you. I  don't know when I'll see you again. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry ~~I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry~~ , Buck. It wasn't supposed to happen this way._

_Now, there's a reason I wrote this letter. I realized it the minute I stepped out of your apartment, and yet I couldn't turn around and tell you, then just leave. For months, I wondered how to tell you, but I realized that simple is best._

_Buck, I love you. I'm in love with you. Looking back, I've always loved you. I love you more than anything, more than myself. Everytime I close my eyes, I see you. Every time I think of you, I get this ache in the pit of my stomach. I want to see you so bad, I want to hear your voice. I love you, I love you, I love you._

_Steve_

Bucky then realized his tears were smudging the page. 

He held the book against his chest, waiting for his tears to pass. His family watched with anticipation. He looked at the time. Eleven twenty seven.

Thirty three minutes. Steve had thirty three minutes before Bucky... well, Bucky didn't know what he would do.

His family asked and asked after him, but Bucky stayed silent. 

It was eleven fifty six when the door bell rang. Bucky rushed to the door, throwing it open. Even in the dark of the night Bucky recognized Steve. They stood, silent, for a moment before Bucky whispered, "Come in."

Steve was in a t-shirt and jeans, even in the snow. He was covered in bruises, his blond hair dirty, his blue eyes dull, but he was beautiful as ever, and Bucky was so, so in love with him. 

Bucky closed the distance between them with a kiss. "I love you," Bucky murmured against Steve's lips, melting into Steve's touch. Bucky's nerves were on fire and he felt in the back of his mind that maybe he should be panicking, maybe he should be angry, but at that moment he only knew three words: _I love you_.

Finally, they disconnected, but Bucky was still leaning against Steve's chest. "I'm Captain America." Steve whispered.

"I don't care." Bucky replied.

"You should."

"I don't."

"I love you."

"I love you."

It was then Bucky remembered his family was still in the room. 

"This is Steve." He explained, not tearing his eyes away from his friend. (Boyfriend? Who knows?)

Becca stared straight at Steve and said two words.

"Thank you."

* * *

December twenty fourth, two thousand and fourteen.

Steve was taking Bucky to Tony Stark's Christmas party and finally introducing him to all of his other friends. It wasn't that Bucky didn't want to go, he was just kind of nervous.

"C'mon, Buck, it'll be fun." Steve insisted. "And if you don't like it, we can get outta there fast as you like."

"Yeah, yeah." Bucky retorted. 

Steve gave him a chaste peck on the lips, and before he could go and do something else, Bucky pulled him back in for a kiss that was anything _but_ chaste. "Bucky," Steve mumbled against his lips, "we gotta leave in a few hours." But it was abundantly clear that no matter what Steve said, he didn't want Bucky to stop.

"Betcha I can make you come twice before Tony calls again to ask who you're bringing." Bucky hissed.

Steve smirked. "What do I have to do if you win?"

Bucky licked his lips. "I think you know, Stevie."

Steve laughed. "And if you don't?"

Bucky raised his eyebrows. "If I can't make you come before Tony calls, then I finish what I started."

"Sounds good to me." Steve rasped, reconnecting their lips.

 

Tony called thirty minutes later.

By that time, Steve had come twice times and Bucky once.

"I think we're gonna be late." Steve panted.

"Fine with me." Bucky retorted.

 

After Bucky and Steve had showered (together, albeit), they got ready. "You gotta wear an ugly Christmas sweater. It's an ugly Christmas sweater party." Steve explained.

"I don't have one." Bucky argued weakly.

"I do. And one for you." Steve retreated to the closet and emerged with two sweaters. One was green and had ugly reindeers and Christmas trees and the words 'ho ho ho' on the front, and the other was red had various snowflake patterns, along with the words 'You go, Glen Coco.'

"Oh my _god_ Mean Girls." Bucky cried, snatching the red one from Steve's hand. 

"I knew you'd like it." Steve said, smiling.

Bucky huffed out a laugh. "You're gonna love takin' it off me even more." He said, waggling his eyebrows lecherously.

"Well, you're not wrong." Steve replied.

The drive to the party was silent. Bucky was practically shaking with nerves. "It'll be fine, Buck. They're gonna love ya." Steve assured him as they got out of the car. "Not as much as I love you, though. That would kinda be a problem."

Bucky made a noncommittal noise and said nothing. They entered the building and a disembodied voice greeted Steve. "Good evening, Captain Rogers."

"Hi, Jarvis. This is Bucky." Steve replied, talking to thin air.

"Um." Bucky said, pressing closer to Steve. He was kind of weirded out by the strange voice, and also the fact that there was a lot of people there. Bucky soon remembered why he didn't go to parties. 

A short man with dark hair approached them that Bucky recognized as Tony Stark. "So, Capsicle. Who's this? You finally find a friend apart from us?" 

Bucky put on a smile and replied, "Friend? No." He paused for dramatic effect and then continued, "Boyfriend, however... I'm Bucky, by the way."

Tony wasn't fazed. "Captain America's gay. The conservatives will be angry."

Bucky smirked. "The conservatives'd be much more than angry if they found out what we've been up to."

Steve elbowed Bucky, but Tony grinned. "I like you."

"Careful, Steve might get jealous if you like me too much." Bucky glanced up at steve, who was looking slightly uncomfortable but also seemed like he was trying not to laugh. Tony drifted off, mingling amongst the frankly unbelievable amount of guests.

Steve led him to the bar, and it was there somone tapped on Bucky's (flesh) shoulder. He turned around to see a pretty redhead with dangerous looking green eyes. 

"Hi, Natasha." Steve greeted her, grinning. "I assume you already know who this is."

Natasha shrugged. "No, Steve. While I knew he existed, I figured it was best not to run surveillance and background checks. After all, you've got _some_ privacy left." She stared for a moment. "Though looking at you two now, I can tell you're dating, and a few other things the blushing virgin Steve might not want said around here."

Bucky laughed. "Steve is many things, blushing included, but virgin is not one of them. I made sure of that.I'm Bucky, by the way."

Natasha laughed. "Well, Bucky, if that's true, how long has this been going on? I knew you were friends, but I sort of assumed Steve would be an idiot and ot confess his undying love for you." She said casually.

"Ah, well, remember that one time he was gone for a year (three hundred sixty four days!)? He wrote me a letter, real dramatic, I bet we could have our own Lifetime movie."

She smiled. "Well, I'm glad it worked out for you two." She looked at Bucky and aid earnestly, "Steve's much happier than he was now that he's with you."

Bucky bit his lip and smiled back. "Thanks, I guess."

Natasha put back on her seemingly normal flirtacious smile. "Well, I've got things to do, boys. It was nice meeting you, Bucky."

"And you."

And Natasha was gone.

"What a gal." Bucky sighed, looking up at Steve.

"Natasha's sure somethin'." Steve agreed. He put his arm around Bucky. "You still gotta meet Clint. Thor's in Asgard and Bruce's outta town. Sam's not here, but you'll see him some time or another." Bucky knew about Sam. Steve met him running.

"Hey, Steve!" A blond man greeted him. "Is this Steve's mystery guy?"

"The one and only." Steve replied. "Clint, this is Bucky, Bucky, this is Clint."

"Bucky, huh? So, how've you been puttin' up with Steve?" Clint asked, grinning.

"Very well. In fact, I'll take him off your hands." Bucky replied.

"I would, but, y'know, he kinda needs to save the world every so often."

Bucky nodded, quickly getting lost in thought. he joked about it, but he wish Steve could just quit. Steve's missions now were never as long as that first one, but Bucky still worried every time Steve left that he wasn't coming back.

Anyway. This was a party. Happy thoughts.

"So, how long you two been together?" Clint asked, glancing between them. 

"A year." Steve replied. "But we've known each other for longer."

"Mm. Well, I shoulda guessed. It's not hard to see you idiots in love." Clint said, shrugging.

"Hey, which one of us is an idiot, Clint, Mr I-can-fight-aliens-but-not-tell-Natasha-how-I-feel." Steve snorted.

"Oh?" Bucky said. "Do it like Steve did. Big dramatic letter and a book fulla drawings. Except, nevermind, that's our Lifetime movie pitch."

"Wait, I should go, Nat's all alone." Clint said, looking over the crowds toward a lady who was clearly Natasha with her shocking red hair.

Steve got them beers and grinned. "They all love you, Buck. You don't have anything to worry about." He paused and added, "Might wanna tone down the flirting, though. Can't have anyone stealing my fella."

Bucky chuckled. "So I'm your fella now?"

Steve scoffed. "In case you've forgotten, you're in love with me, jerk."

Bucky smiled genuinely. "Yeah, I am." He stared at Steve dreamily, cliche as it sounds. (Wow, they really were living a Lifetime movie.) 

Someone popped open a champagne bottle. The sound rang like a shot.

Bucky was completely unprepared for this, and ducked down to the ground, because if it sounded like a shot, well, he did have PTSD.

Bucky was breathing heavily. The party was suddenly too loud, there was too much going on. Steve was immediately crouched beside him, whispering comfortingly. "It's okay, Bucky, we're in the Tower, we're safe, it was just champagne, you're safe, you're okay, you're safe."

Bucky slowly returned to reality.

His breakdowns like this were coming less and less, flashbacks too. He'd been doing so well. 

Steve's murmurs were really all that was keeping him sane then. It was probably just minutes, but it felt like hours.

When Bucky finally stood up, he looked around and realized that though it had been a major thing for Bucky and Steve, next to no one else had noticed. 

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve, grateful for his boyfriend's familiarity. Steve returned the embrace. "Do you want to leave?"

No, Bucky couldn't make him do that. "No, we can stay, I know you wanted to come."

Steve ran his fingers through Bucky's hair. "You idiot. I care about you more than ths stupid party. You're the most important person in my life."

"Then let's go." Bucky said, sighing with relief. After that ordeal, he didn't really want to stay any longer.

The ride home was silent. Bucky was still trying to calm down, and as soon as they got inside the dingy apartment, Bucky practically collapsed on Steve, who faithfully brought Bucky to bed and threw the covers on top of him. He soon followed, pulling Bucky's curled figure close, murmuring comforts and praises in his ear.

"I love you, Bucky, you're okay, I love you." 

Bucky positioned himself so he was facing Steve. "I love you too, Stevie. Merry Christmas." He grinned and proceeded to bury himself in Steve's chest.

"Love you too, Buck." Steve murmured as his lover drifted off to sleep.

Bucky had known Steve for four years, for Christmases, and despite what had happened, this one was the best yet.

* * *

December twenty fourth, two thousand and fifteen. It wasn't a sad Christmas eve this year. In fact, quite the opposite.

It was the night before Steve and Bucky's wedding.

They lay beside each other, not tired, but not very awake either.

"I love you so fucking much." Steve murmured, hugging Bucky against him.

"I'm glad you came back." Bucky replied. "I love you. So much. Too much."

"I'm sorry I left." He murmured, running his hands through Bucky's hair.

"Shut up, punk." Bucky muttered, tracing Steve's scars carefully with his fingers and relishing how it made Steve shiver.

"Jerk." Steve muttered.

No one had explicitly said anything about it, but it became routine that whenever Steve went on a mission, Bucky would stay at the tower. 

They'd come so far in the last two years. Even farther from that cold, lonely night five years ago. Bucky stared at Steve and wondered: how did he get here? How did he, thans to just one person, one man, go from a huge mess to... this? He was here, lying beside the best man he could ever possibly meet, and the man loved him, and they were about to get married. Bucky had never been this happy.

"I don't deserve you." Bucky whispered, inhaling Steve, who smelled like cinnamon and soap and burnt toast though Bucky could never figure out why.

"You deserve the world, Buck." Steve murmured in response, pressing a kiss to Bucky's forehead. 

"You're never gonna stop, are you?" Bucky asked, smiling.

"Stop what?"

"That thing where you insist that I'm good."

Steve snorted. "I'm gonna insist until you believe it, Buck. You're a good man."

"'s gonna take a while, then." Bucky mumbled.

"C'mon, Buck, none of this on the night before our wedding." Steve sighed. "Just sleep, 'kay?"

"Don't wanna sleep, Stevie." Bucky sighed. He was tired, but sleep seemed too far away. Tomorrow he was getting _married_.

Steve replied, "What else you got in mind, Buck?"

Bucky grinned and moved so he was face to face with Steve and kissed him. Steve abruptly disentangled them and cried, "We're about to get married. We should sleep. Hickeys don't look great with tuxes, you know."

He laughed. "Stevie, what's a guy to do when he's got a fella like you in his bed?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Don't get too excited, Buck. We got time for this tomorrow night."

Bucky ignored Steve's meek protests and kissed him, biting on his bottom lip in a way that made Steve unable to stop himself. The two found themselves lazily making out for a while until Steve murmured, voice rough, "Sleep, Buck. We gotta sleep. Can't have you fallin' asleep at the altar on me."

"You'd catch me." Bucky whispered, succumbing to his tiredness.

"I'd never let you fall." Steve promised.

Bucky replied, so tired it was barely audible, "'Til the end of the line."

 

Bucky awoke to his phone ringing. Without bothering to check the caller ID, he answered it, mumbling, "Whaddaya want?"

"Barnes!" The voice on the other end cried. It was Tony. "You and Capsicle are going to be late for your own wedding if you don't come soon."

Bucky looked at the time. "We're not gonna be late, Stark. Get off my ass, it's my _wedding day_."

"Just get over here." 

"Fine. We'll be there soon."

"You know, this could have been avoided-"

Bucky hung up.

"C'mon, Steve, Bitchass Stark wants us at the Tower." He announced, prodding Steve, who still didn't wake up. "C'mon, Sleeping Beauty, need me to kiss you awake?" When Steve didn't react, he gave him a quick peck on the lips. Immediately, Steve sat up. "You punk." Bucky hissed. 

"Takin' advantage of the situation, jerk." Steve answered casually. 

They got ready fast. Though they didn't say it out loud, both were excited to get to the Tower. They were about to get married, after all.

At the Tower, they were immediately ushered upstairs. "Everything has to be perfect." Tony insisted.

"Are you sure you're remembering whose wedding it is?" Bucky asked.

All of the preparation blurred together. He was in his suit, guests were arriving, this was really happening. 

"Can I see Steve?" Bucky asked Natasha, who was now waiting by his side.

"Groom doesn't get to see the bride before the wedding." Natasha responded breezily. Her dress was a deep red. She was Steve's Best Woman, because she wouldn't have it any other way.

"I'm not a bride, I don't think the traditional rules apply here." Bucky insisted.

"Nope. It's more fun this way." Natasha argued.

"More fun for you, maybe."

"Loosen up, James." Natasha sighed. "You'll see him soon. It's all gonna be fine."

"I know it'll be okay. It's just... I dunno. I'm getting _married_ , Natasha." Over the past year, he and Natasha had formed something of a friendship. She was probably his best friend, apart from Steve and his family.

Speaking of his family, Becca was going to be his Best Woman/Maid of Honour. Bucky was really dreading the speech she was going to give. His whole family was coming: his mother, father, Becca of course, Beth, Evie, and Grace. Plus Kyna and Jason, and Beth's boyfriend Max. Becca and Jason had gotten married earlier in the year, and Kyna and Evie were engaged. Bucky couldn't wait to see them.

"James, don't act like it's all that amazing. It was inevitable. You guys look soppy when you as much as look at each other."

"We are not _soppy_." Bucky insisted. 

"You really are." She said with finality.

Time flew by. Before Bucky knew it, he was facing Steve at the altar and the minister was speaking, but Bucky wasn't much listening to him. He felt guilty about it in the back of his mind, but the rest of him was concentrated on Steve. Steve, who looked more beautiful than ever, whose bright blue eyes were locked on him, who couldn't be more perfect.

Finally, it was time for the vows.

Steve went first.

"James Buchanan Barnes, I met you five years ago. It was a dark, cold night and I think you were worse off than I was, which is sure saying something. You got so cold you could barely stand, so we hobbled back to your apartment and you gave me coffee. I didn't know it then, but the messed up man who'd just stumbled into my life would have a bigger impact than I could ever imagine.

"I'm sure you all know how it goes. We had one great year, then I left for a year. Happy reunion with Bucky's family, big dramatic love confessions, you know.

"And here we are, two years later, standing side by side at the altar. Before you, I didn't think I'd ever get this: love, happiness, _marriage_. I'm not going to deny it, the live I live ain't easy, far from it, but living it with you makes it so, so much better. Buck, I love you more than I ever thought possible. I can't believe how lucky I am to get to spend my life with you."

Bucky put a hand to his face and found himself crying. 

"Well, I guess it's my turn now." He began, not bothering to hide the quiver in his voice. "I dunno how I'm going to beat that, but here goes.

"You're right, Steve. I was a giant mess when I met you. I didn't see the light at the end of the tunnel. Then, on a whim, I approached the only other guy on the street crazy enough to be out in the cold. At the time, it seemed like a bad idea to invite you inside, but I did anyway, and my life was all that much better for it.

"That first year was probably the best of my life. You gave me a reason to better my life, Stevie. It was the Christmas at the end of that year I realized I was madly in love with you. Then, you left.

"I'm not gonna dwell on that year. It wasn't great, I promise, but in the end, it's what brought me back to my family. Steve returned, as it happens, on Christmas eve, three hundred and sixty four days after he left me.

"I'm not angry at him, never was, never will be. I dunno where we'd be if he'd stayed, since in the end his leaving was really what got 'im to confess his undying love for me. We might not even have been here today, getting married.

"Anyway, Stevie, point is: I love you. I love everything about you. I love the way your eyes get all crinkly when you draw and the way you bite your lip when you're concentrating. I love the way you put everyone else before yourself, but not so much when you don't take care of yourslef because of it. But don't worry, I'll always be here to set you back on track, Stevie. I love you. I love you, and I'm with you til the end of the line."

Steve wiped away his tears. Now, the rings. Steve and Bucky didn't personally know anyone appropriate to be the ring bearer, so Clint offered up his son Cooper.

Cooper came with the rings. Steve, who was looking very, very emotional at this point, took one of the gold bands and placed it on Bucky's finger. "With this ring, I thee wed."

Bucky did the same. "With this ring, I thee wed."

The minister announced, "I now pronounce you man and husband. You may kiss the groom!"

And with that, Steve, without hesitation, surged forward and kissed Bucky. It lasted longer than expected, which was probaby making the guests uncomfortable, but Steve and Bucky couldn't really care less.

It took Tony wolf-whistling for them to split apart. 

The reception was fun, if long. It stretched far into the night. 

As expected, Bucky's family cried. Becca's speech began with, "Bucky's a huge pain in the ass, I can't imagine how Steve survives it." But it got around to being happy in the end, and that's what counted.

Many speeches and many hours later, Bucky and Steve finally collapsed into bed. It was a suite provided by Tony.

"So, Stevie." He whispered. "We're married."

"We're married." Steve echoed. "I couldn'ta chosen a better fella."

"Love you too."

There was a silence. "You know what couples do on their wedding night, huh?" Steve murmured.

"I know it very well." Bucky rasped. "But first, outta the tuxes. I've had enough formality for a lifetime."

And when dawn light began to filter through the windows, Bucky whispered, "Merry Christmas, Stevie."

"Merry Christmas, Buck."

* * *

Eleven fifty three, December twenty fourth, twenty twenty-six.

Steve was exhausted, having just gotten back from a mission that morning, but determined to stay up all day, then put the presents under the tree after dark.

Now, Bucky was alseep in his arms. He couldn't be happier. Exactly fifteen years ago, he'd met Steve. Five years later, they were married.

Now Bucky had a family.

 

"Daddy! Papa!" A little girl's high pitched voice awoke Bucky and Steve. 

"Hey, baby." Bucky greeted his daughter, sitting up. Six years ago, Bucky and Steve had adopted Peggy. Her full name was Margaret Natalia Rogers-Barnes and Steve and Bucky couldn't love her more.

"C'mon! Santa came!" She cried, jumping on Steve. "Papa, wake up!"

Steve groaned. "Papa's wakin' up, Peg. Just give me a second."

"No time, Papa." Peggy was grinning ear to ear.

Bucky sighed. "Okay, baby, I'll come with you so we can look at what Santa got you, but no openin' until Papa gets up, 'kay?"

"Okay, Daddy." Peggy replied, grinning.

"Jus' one second. You go on out and I'll be there in a sec." As Peggy bounded excitedly out of the room, Bucky got up and pulled on a shirt. He paused to look at his husband's sleeping figure and smiled. 

"Daddy, come on!"

"Comin', darlin'." Bucky replied, entering the living room of their house. The tree was decorated extravangantly, and under it were more presents than Bucky remembered. There were the many from him and Steve, obviously, to Peggy, and then all of the gifts to all three of them from the Avengers, then also from Bucky's ever growing family. Now there was Winnifred, George, Becca, Beth, Evie, Grace, Kyna, Jason, Max, Becca's kids James and Lilly, Beth's son Rory, and Evie and Kyna's daughters Maeve and Eliza. They'd all be coming over later.

"Daddy, what's in this one?" Peggy demanded, smiling. Despite the fact that she was adopted, she'd began to take on Steve's little habits, like that tiny little grin that meant she wanted something, or how she would tap her fingers to whatever song was in her mind without noticing it. Now, she was doing both.

"You gotta wait to find out, baby girl." Bucky replied. 

Peggy glanced at him conspiratorially. "I won't tell papa if you don't." 

Bucky laughed. "No, baby. Papa wants to see what Santa got you."

"Santa got you stuff too, right Daddy?" Peggy asked, facing Bucky.

"Nope. When you grow up, Santa stops givin' you presents. He only gives gifts to the little kids, and only if they're on the nice list." Bucky explained, scooping Peggy up in his arms. 

"I never wanna grow up, Daddy. I want Santa t'give me presents forever!" She paused and stared Bucky intensely in the eyes. "Am I on the nice list, Daddy?"

Bucky chuckled. "Yeah, baby. You're the best little girl in the whole wide world." 

Peggy squealed gleefully. "Santa should give you presents, too. You're the bast daddy ever."

Bucky's eyes widened comically. "What about papa?"

"Papa's the best papa. You're the best daddy." She explained matter-of-factly.

"What's this I hear about papa?" Steve said, announcing his entrance.

"She says you're the worst papa ever, doll." Bucky explained, grinning crookedly at Steve.

"No, Papa!" Peggy shrieked, reaching out to him. "I said you're the best. Daddy's lying!" 

"I know." Steve replied. "Bucky's just being awful." He took their daughter from Bucky's arms, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Presents now?"

"Presents!" Peggy sqeaked, jumping down from Steve. She frowned. "Which ones are for me?"

"Open this one first." Bucky suggested, handing her an innocent looking box wrapped in red and green striped paper. He grinned at Steve as Peggy tore through the paper. She soon found a purple shirt.

"What does that say?" She demanded.

"Daddy's girl." Steve answered, glaring at Bucky. 

"I love it!" She cried.

"That's my girl, huh, baby?" Bucky said, poking Steve discreetly.

 _I'll get you back_ , Steve mouthed. Out loud, he said, "What about papa, Peg?"

Peggy gasped. "I still love you, Papa!"

Bucky and Steve laughed, and helped her unwrap the rest of her many, many gifts. Bucky hoped that she wouldn't grow up spoiled. Well, it was kind of impossible with Steve for a father.

 

A few hours later, while Peggy was playing in the copious amounts of wrapping paper, Bucky announced, "Okay, time to get up and dressed. Gamma's coming over soon, and Auntie Becca, and Auntie Beth, and-"

"Noooo!" Peggy cried. "There's too many! It's gonna take forever to say them all!"

Bucky laughed. "C'mon, darlin'."

After they'd helped Peggy get washed up and dressed, it was their turn. They left her to play with her new toys, and as soon as Bucky shut the door behind them, Steve pinned him up against the wall. Although surprised, Bucky made no move to stop him. Soon, Steve was trailing kisses along his jaw and sucking on his neck-

Oh, damn.

"Steeeeeeeve." Bucky cried, pushing him away. "I'm gonna have a hickey now!"

Steve grinned mischievously. "I said I'd get you back, Buck."

"Ughh. Do you realize how much my sisters will tease me?"

"Why do you think I did it?"

"You're the actual worst, Steve." Bucky hissed.

The day passed quickly, and soon, the doorbell rang, and it was _everyone_. The entire Barnes clan had arrived together. Bucky opened the door, putting his hand on his neck like it was a nervous habit but really he was just covering up Steve's goddamn hickey for as long as possible.

Peggy rushed to the door and Bucky hoisted her up on his hip. "Welcome to my humble abode." He greeted everyone, stepping far away so they could all enter.

This Christmas was possibly better than the one when Steve and Bucky got married.

Well, except for one incident.

Bucky was getting food from the kitchen and overheard Peggy talking to Becca, something he doubted would end well.

"Gimme the dirt on your dads." Becca demanded, holding the tiny six-year-old.

Peggy thought for a moment. "Well, sometimes when I can't sleep really late I hear Daddy calling _Papa_ Daddy. But that doesn't make any sense. Daddy's Daddy. But I don't wanna ask them because I'm not s'posed to be up that late."

Becca laughed. "This is very valuable information, Peggy. Thank you."

Becca looked up at Bucky and grinned a grin that haunted Bucky's childhood.

Other than that _horrible_ experience, it was excellent. Bucky couldn't be more thankful for his family. He couldn't be more thanlful for Steve and his daughter, who gace him a reason to wake up.

And that night, as they were drifting off to sleep, Bucky nestled in his arms, Steve whispered, "Merry Christmas."


End file.
